Depleted Living On
by MeZaKi93
Summary: It wasn't that he was indifferent... but for him, that wasn't Breakdown anymore. One-shot, my theory on Knock Out's thoughts at the beginning of "Thirst"


**It is a one-shot inspired by the beginning of the TFP episode "Thirst" where Knock Out seemed quite unmoved as he experimented on Cylas with the Synth-En. Even Starscream asked him if it didn't bother him, after all, it was still the body of his dead partner. I didn't know at first if I should write this, but a friend of mine encouraged me to do it, and I could finally collect my thoughts. It is just my theory of what Knock Out might have been thinking and feeling before and during that scene.**

**This is dedicated to you, ADAl44T-KB-O - Thank You for everything! :)**

* * *

X.X.X

He thought about sedating the abomination, but it was really all the same.

Synthetic energon, still in the final stage of experimentation, was a unique source of power. The formula that he had taken from the Autobot medic was erratic to say the least, and Knock Out soon discovered that he lacked the necessary antecedents, the calculations Ratchet had made. He had to start from zero, but after a while, he didn't care. Analyzing, addig stabilizers or special nanite groups to digest it to components, to find, to make connections - it all distracted him from the reality he tried to close himself away from. But he couldn't stretch it any longer. He reached the stage where he needed to try out the energon on a living Cybertronian.

_Living_, Knock Out snorted. This was not _living_. It was definitely not living, not like it once did. This body was nothing but a shadow, played on like a marionette moved by the humans' most morbid science - something even he, a Decepticon medic had never encountered before.

Silas growled, and Breakdown's vocalizers growled with him; one unscathed and one mutilated optic shone up angrily at him, whole chassis struggling against the restraints Knock Out closed him in while he was still unconscious. The brilliant red mech at first thought he wouldn't be able to touch his fallen friend's body, knowing full well that it was nothing more than a corpse-turned-puppet - but after the first touch came the next, and he was holding it down, cutting into it, placing it in the right positions for his research.

_It_.

After a while, his fuel pump slowed back to its normal rate, his spark wasn't racing anymore and his mind cleared, allowing him to concentrate on the task at hand and only that - like all the fear and repulsion and grief flowed out of him. The emotions he always felt towards the one this body once belonged to were gone. Wiped. Like he... became empty.

"Let me go, medic!" Breakdown and Silas's distorted voice bellowed in his face, "I know you knew Breakdown... we could work together. Let me free and we'll be partners–"

The next thing he knew, a buzzsaw whirred dangerously close to his neck cables, he could feel the air blow around it and the pure white face, bloodred optics that flared like a furious lightning storm leant above him close, immaculate dentae bared in a snarl, Knock Out spoke for the first time since he began the setup of the experiment with this _thing_.

"Don't you dare... take Breakdown's name in vain." voice a low hiss, Knock Out straightened up, "You know nothing. Better shut up and be a good scientific subject."

_...like you once did to him..._

Knock Out transformed his hand back and he turned back to his table. The ampule was already filled with the semi-transparent, greenish liquid and the medic picked the syringe up to make his way to the other side of the examination berth. He started with a smaller dose first, he would then raise it depending on the results. He had already checked the sensors attached to and inside _its_ medical ports in case any had come loose during the abomination's useless flailing, but he found everything in order.

The medic smirked. Breakdown would've been much stronger. Humans were such pathetic, weak creatures... what were they thinking?! Breakdown was dead, and this flesh-creature was insane if he thought he could play Primus and be ruler over life and death. Breakdown was dead, and the dead should stay dead. That was the universe's order.

...even when he looked at _its_ face, he couldn't see Breakdown anymore.

The abomination grunted, sensible enough to see that it couldn't get anywhere with talking to him. Knock Out hummed quietly as he placed the sharp end by the edge of the armor on its arm where he could puncture the protoform over an energon line. His crimson optics stayed focused, his mind stayed focused and his feature did not carry the tiniest of emotions as he worked - because he carried no emotions towards this creature claiming to be Breakdown resurrected.

It wasn't that he was indifferent... but for him, it wasn't Breakdown anymore. He couldn't forget his partner, friend, lover, the only robot he could trust to his core. He couldn't allow himself to be devastated over his death, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt all the same. It still hurt. He lost a part of his life with Breakdown, something important that no one, nothing would replace. But when he saw Breakdown... his scarred and dull body walk into the Nemesis, all he felt was anger. And then...

Nothing. Emptiness, as he couldn't think about _it_ as Breakdown. His one true friend was gone, not coming back. He had accepted it and his memory he shall carry - but here, it was nothing more than scrap metal. The body used to be Breakdown, but Breakdown was more than just a body. The metal wasn't him anymore. Knock Out no longer felt anything when he looked at it and touched it; it was easy to use it to his experiments, to cut into it without remorse. That was how he felt.

Empty. Insensitive towards any pain this abomination might have felt...

It wasn't Breakdown.

The door whooshed open and Knock Out tore his gaze away from the writhing body to see Starscream enter. The dim light reflected off the Seeker's silvery plates, his wings were held at a relaxed position, "My, my, my," he began in that false, silky tone, lips pulled into an amused smirk, "Whatever have you been inflicting upon poor Cylas?"

Ignoring the pained groans of the human through his fallen friend's vocalizer, Knock Out raised the empty syringe away from its arm to refill it and looked at the Air Commander.

"Ha!" turning back to the abomination, Knock Out didn't even attempt to hide the disgusted sneer from his face, "Well, anything that merits the need for a living Petri dish."

And that was it. He had learnt to live without Breakdown now, his memory stored deep within his processor and spark with all the emotions he felt towards him once, and he would always value what had been robbed of him. Breakdown would live there, in him, _within_ him, but not in this body. It was just metal, empty like his spark towards anything it might say or do or feel like.

He continued. He had to - life went on, life couldn't stop at a loss so small as one soldier. Whatever Knock Out at first held to this frame had been depleted, and that was how he wished to go on. Without feeling any weight of his doings. With...

...nothing.


End file.
